Freaks
by katzsoa
Summary: Once upon another time, there were three freaks: Squelch, Gangle, and Fleck. This is their story. Rated T to be safe.
1. Fagan's Fantastical Freaks

**A.N.:** I haven't seen "Love Never Dies," but I have listened to the soundtrack. General disclaimer, it's not mine, and besides, there are a few plot points in the musical that I dislike. Anyway, now that that's settled, here is "Freaks."

XXX

_Coney Island has something for everyone. Singers and dancers, food and rides, actors and acrobats. Of course, there are those who prefer a more strange and mysterious genre of entertainment. You will find such an audience here, at Fagan's Fantastical Freaks._

"Welcome, everyone, to the show!" the short, slightly rotund man on the stage shouted to the crowd in front of him. "I am Fagan. Prepare to be amazed and astounded by the feats you shall see this day! Let me assure you, ladies and gentlemen, there are no hidden tricks here, only inconceivable abnormalities!

"We'll start off slow," Fagan announced, crossing the stage to a closed curtain. "Gangle, come forth!"

The curtain opened, and a man ducked through the gap. As he let the fabric close again behind him, he straightened. The audience gasped. Gangle was impossibly skinny, and unbelievably tall. If there had been a ceiling to the amphitheatre, his short hair would have brushed it. His legs, arms, and fingers were very long.

Fagan pulled up one of the legs of Gangle's pants.

"No stilts!" he showed the viewers. "Would anyone like to try to touch Gangle's hand?"

Quite a few people rushed up to the stage, but no matter how high they jumped, Gangle towered over them. He grinned down at them, then moved aside.

"And now," Fagan said once everyone had returned to their seats. "Let me introduce to you the incredible Squelch!"

The curtain was again swept aside, and a large, powerfully built man stepped out. His head was clean-shaven, and his skin was completely covered in tattoos. Squelch flexed his muscular arms and legs impressively.

"Squelch here is the strongest man in the world," Fagan boasted, pointing to an enormous set of dumbbells lying nearby. Squelch walked over to the weights and calmly raised them over his head. The audience oohed and aahed.

An assistant pushed a long table onto the stage.

"Now, if I could have some more volunteers from the audience?" Fagan scanned the crowd. "How about you, sir, and you, and the well-fed man on your left…"

Soon, ten men had gathered on the stage. Fagan had them sit on the table.

"Now," he said, clapping his hands together. "Just in case you had any doubts as to the authenticity of that first display of his strength, Squelch will try once more!"

Squelch got down on his knees and stooped under the table, placing his hands palms-upward on the underside of the table. Very slowly, he lifted the table and the men sitting on it just as high as he had done to the dumbbells. The crowd went wild as Squelch held the table up there for several seconds before setting the men gently back on the ground.

"My friends," Fagan said, waving a hand dramatically towards the curtain. "You have seen height. You have seen strength. But the most astonishing person has yet to arrive!"

The curtain swayed slightly, and a young woman stepped out. The audience murmured in confusion. She looked like a completely ordinary teenager, albeit rather gaunt.

"This is Fleck," said Fagan, pulling the girl to the front of the stage and playfully tossing her long, raven hair. "Don't let her appearance fool you! She's as much a freak as Gangle and Squelch. Show them what you can do, Fleck!"

Fleck stared at him silently for a moment, then slowly raised her left hand. She grabbed her fingers with her left and pulled on them backwards. Her hand folded back against her arm. The audience hushed.

"More, Fleck," Fagan ordered.

Fleck climbed up onto the table and sat with her legs spread outward. She sat there for a moment, then leaned forward. As her torso sank towards the table, she began to gradually pull her legs up over her head and backwards, bending her body in two different directions at once. The audience screamed in a mixture of excitement and revulsion.

"More!" Fagan shouted over their voices. "You can do better than that!"

Fleck hesitated, but did as she was told. Her body trembled with exertion as she pressed her face and stomach to the table, and her legs went farther back until her thighs too met the table and her feet dangled over the edge. She held that position for a slow count of ten before pulling herself back into shape. The crowd cheered.

The contortionist slid off of the table, wincing slightly as her feet touched the ground and her weight settled on her aching joints. Her face was stained with fresh tears, but the audience paid them no mind. Fagan bowed again and again to his crowd's applause, and sent his assistant out into the crowd with a hat for extra money.

_Fagan's Fantastical Freaks perform many times a day, to people who cheer, who laugh, and who taunt. As the day goes by, Fagan's pockets grow heavy with coins. It is not until late at night that the freaks get their food and rest._

"Nice crowds today," Squelch said conversationally as he sank his teeth into a small loaf of bread.

Gangle nodded. "Very appreciative," he agreed. "I thought that they would go hoarse with cheering this afternoon after you picked up that fat gentleman."

The strongman grinned. "He should go on a diet."

"But they cheered most for Fleck," Gangle said, raising his voice slightly as his eyes flickered to the other end of the dark circus cage that was their bedroom.

"They always do," Squelch added in the same loud voice. "And with good reason. Fleck's incredible."

They waited quietly for a response, but received none. The two freaks turned to look at Fleck, who sat against the wall, hugging her legs, which were drawn up against her chest. An apple lay, untouched, at her feet. Gangle shook his head sadly. Squelch handed him the loaf of bread, and walked over to Fleck.

"A hunger strike won't get you anywhere, Fleck," he said, picking up the apple and sitting down in front of her. She stared at him blankly, not reacting.

"It would be better if you ate," Gangle gently urged. "Stomach pains will only make you feel worse."

Squelch held the apple up to the small girl's lips. "Just one bite, please?"

Fleck blinked once, then opened her mouth. Squelch placed the apple against her mouth, and she took a bite. Juice dripped down her chin as she slowly chewed and swallowed.

Squelch smiled kindly at her, although he felt horrible. He could still remember the vibrant little orphan that she had been when she'd joined the freak show, nearly a year ago. She hadn't spoken for almost a month.

"_I hate my life."_

That was the last thing she'd said to him and Gangle, after a particularly bad day.

True, it was unpleasant to have people staring at you every hour of the day, especially knowing that they thought you were a hideous monster that should be kept away. Gangle and Squelch had had more than their share of cruelty. But Fleck, who was forced to go beyond her limits every day, whose old dreams of wonders and stardom had been mercilessly crushed, had taken the life of a freak worse than either of them.


	2. The Man With the Mask

The day the man with the mask came had been like any other day. The crowd had jeered, Fagan had gotten his pay, and the freaks retreated to their cage in varying degrees of pain and humiliation.

There _had_ been a close call mid-afternoon, when a small child in the crowd had panicked to see his father lifted high above the ape-like man's head, but a few quick words from Fagan had dispelled the audience's discomfort.

But, once the sun had set, it was all the same. Squelch and Gangle had gone through the now-familiar motions: poor attempts at cheerful chatter, trying to coax Fleck to eat, and finally allowing her to curl up in the shadowy corners of the cage with the one ragged blanket she had for comfort during the little sleep she got in the nights.

Then, they heard the voices.

"…are your quarters. I'm sure you'll find them…comfortable."

Gangle glanced at Squelch. _Fagan? _he mouthed. Their master never came to visit after hours. The strong man shrugged.

"I am certain that I will," another voice replied.

The two freaks eyes widened slightly. Who was that?

Approaching footsteps, and then the silhouettes of two men in the dim light as the chain holding the door to the cage shut was unlocked.

The chain was more for keeping unwanted visitors out than for keeping the freaks in. Squelch could have broken it easily, and he had even considered doing so once or twice during Fleck's time of silence. But even if they got out, where could they go? What life was there for a freak outside of the freak show?

The door opened, and one man entered as the other closed the door.

"You start in the morning," Fagan said as he locked the chain once more. "So rest well."

The newcomer said nothing, just nodded as Fagan left.

The freaks stared at the man. The lack of light in the cage made it difficult to see his features, but half of his face was covered in a white mask.

"Who are you?" Squelch demanded.

The man with the mask waited before answering, as though trying to decide whether or not Squelch deserved an answer.

"I believe I am a member of your troupe," he finally said.

"What are you called?" Gangle asked more specifically.

Again there was the pause, which Squelch found a bit infuriating.

"I have gone by many names and titles," the man replied.

"Who here has not?" Squelch challenged.

"That is indeed true, when one is in such company as yours," said the man.

When the freaks did not respond, he continued.

"I have been known as man and ghost," he said, with just a touch of drama. "I have been Erik and I have been Phantom, I have been the Angel of Music."

"'The Angel of Music'," Gangle repeated. "So, old Fagan hired you for your voice?"

"With your fine enunciation, he may have hired you for yours," said the man. Gangle took it as a compliment, albeit an odd one.

"You sing?" he asked.

"I have sung," said the man. "But I compose. I create. The very thing for which I was able to gain this position here has restricted me to the underground way of life. The face that lies beneath this mask has kept me from the stage, although I have spent most of my life in what used to be the finest opera house in Paris."

"Sing."

For a moment, it was unclear who had spoken. Then all three heads turned to the corner, where Fleck sat, arms clasped around her legs, eyes wide open.

"Sing," she said again in a hoarse whisper. "Please."

Gangle and Squelch turned back to the man. "_Please,_" Gangle hissed.

The man hesitated, but complied.

He sang a song that the freaks had not heard before. It was an aria, a love song. The lyrics seemed to fill the air in the cage as no words had ever been able to, conquering the darkness and silence.

Fleck listened, still as a statue, eyes reflecting the dim light. The others watched her as she listened, and they saw a ghost of a smile play across her lips. As the melody drew to a close, her eyelids slowly drooped and her head fell forward onto her knees.

Squelch gently moved her to a laying position, and placed the blanket over her.

"Thank you," Gangle said softly to the masked man. "She has not spoken, let alone smiled, since…a very long time. I am Gangle. He is Squelch, and she is Fleck."

"I am registered here as 'Mr. Y'," said the man with the mask.

Gangle knew then that this man, this 'Mr. Y', was someone; that he could and would change something in the lives of the freaks.

But he never guessed the incredible magnitude of that change.


	3. The Master Unmasked

_Days pass, and Fleck slowly shifts back into the cheerful, active girl that Gangle and Squelch remembered her to be. Mr. Y became a constant in the small universe of the freaks, the face behind his mask repulsing and entertaining the crowd enough to please Fagan and draw his pressures away from the young contortionist._

"You look rather cheery," Gangle said to Fleck as they walked back to their cage at the end of the day.

Fleck nodded. "The Master is going to buy the show soon," she replied.

Gangle paused mid-step. "What?"

"He says that Madame Giry should have collected enough money by now, so that he can buy the show from Fagan," said Fleck.

"_Who _says this?" Gangle asked. "And who's Madame Giry?"

"Mr. Y says this," Fleck explained, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "And Madame Giry is that woman who comes to watch the show every week. She and her daughter work for the Master."

_The Master. _Somewhere in Gangle's head, an alarm bell was ringing. Yes, Fleck had been spending her evenings talking and listening to the masked man, but this odd declaration of servitude was…disturbing, to say the least.

"Why would Mr. Y buy the show?" he said, slightly perplexed.

"It's the first step to Phantasma," Fleck said, before launching into a long, detailed description of Mr. Y's plans for a place called the "City of Wonders", a theme park that was more like a small city, which would one day stand on Coney Island, featuring all sorts of singers, dancers, and acrobats, as well as a museum, a carnival, and all sorts of rare things from around the world… She spoke as though she were reciting a speech that she knew by heart, something that had been repeated to her again and again…

…_which it probably has been, _Gangle thought. Perhaps he and Squelch should have paid more attention to Fleck's conversations with Mr. Y, but they had been so glad at her recovery…

"…and, once it's built, there will be a place for all of us there, Gangle!" Fleck grabbed the tall man's hand in excitement. "Squelch will astound _thousands _of people with his strength, and the Master says that he wants you to announce the acts in the concert hall, and he's promised that I'll never have to bend myself again! Never, ever! He thinks that I could be a trapeze artist…I've never seen a trapeze artist, but he says that they swing high above the ground like birds! And best of all…" Fleck grinned up at Gangle. "Best of all, the audience won't be laughing at us, Gangle! They'll love us! They'll think that we're wonderful! Won't that be wonderful, Gangle? Won't that be great?"

"Wonderful," Gangle said, but his mind was elsewhere.

_As soon as the freaks were back in their cage, Gangle and Squelch spoke as privately as they could in the far corner from Mr. Y and Fleck._

"This is…troubling," Squelch said softly.

"How could this man follow through with such a plan?" Gangle hissed. "She's so hopeful…I don't want her to face the disappointment. She's too fragile."

Squelch nodded. "We should speak to Mr. Y. Tomorrow."

"Backstage," Gangle agreed. "I'll talk to him, if you keep Fleck occupied."

XXX

It was near midnight, but Fleck had yet to fall asleep. She was thinking, thinking about the Master's plan, about his dream. Phantasma in its entirety was enticing, but the part that she desired most was the belonging—the freaks walking among men without fear of being shunned. To be accepted, and found to be wonderful…

"…_because we _are_ wonderful," the masked man said. "Because the darkness is far more intricate and breathtaking than the light, because what lies underneath the surface is strange and beautiful. Those who come to Phantasma will know this to be true, and they will become a part of our world, as we shall belong in theirs. In Phantasma, it will not be considered wrong to be the bizarre."_

The Master said, time and time again, that the abnormalities were what should be seen and accepted, that the deformities were what were truly gorgeous.

…_so why does he wear a mask? _she suddenly thought. _Doesn't he accept his abnormalities?_

Seized by a sudden urge spawned from her complete belief in the words of Mr. Y, she rose from her resting place and crossed the circus cage to where he lay sleeping, his mask still covering the right half of his face. Fleck knelt at his side, and without hesitation curled her fingers under the edge of the mask and pulled it off.

For a split second she held the smooth, white covering in her hands, and the Master's face was hers to see. Then his eyes flew open and he rushed up at her, striking the light little girl with such force that she flew across the room and slammed against the wall, crumpling to the floor.

The man snatched up his mask, only to drop it again as Squelch grabbed him by the collar, lifted him off his feet, and shoved him into the wall.

"_No!_" he roared.

Gangle rushed to Fleck's side, placing her head on his lap. She blinked up at him, dazed.

"You do _not _touch her!" Squelch bellowed furiously. "She's only a child! It is bad enough that you fill her head with impossible dreams! What kind of a person are you, to set her up for even more despair when she already has so little? What kind of a person attacks a little girl?"

"She _dared _to look at me," Mr. Y snarled, his anger making his face seem all the more hideous. "To _gawk _at me, like those idiots in the crowd! What am I, you ask? Evidently, I am a freak among freaks! I rest with those who are the only kind of people who would understand, and _this _is what I get?"

"She understands!" Squelch said. "She understands more than you realize! She dreams of a better world, _Mr. Y, _and when her dreams were crushed it nearly destroyed her! What more could you want? What more could we ask for? We are freaks, we are scum, and this is our lot in life, and so we make the best with what we have! Who are you to claim that you are any more than the rest of us, that someone should call you _Master, _that the world will accept us—?"

"_Stop! Stop! Stop!_" Fleck screamed.

Squelch turned his face towards the girl, who had slammed her hands over her ears and curled up, trembling into a fetal position. Gangle was trying to hold her still and comfort her, but she was not to be consoled.

The strong man silently cursed his temper, which had only served to make Fleck more upset. He set Mr. Y down on the floor, and kicked his mask over to him.

"Go on," he muttered. "Hide your face. Pretend that you're something you'll never be. Live in your own fantasies—just leave Fleck out of it."

Squelch turned and sat against the far wall, not daring to approach Fleck, who was gradually calming down. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mr. Y put the mask back on.

_The next morning, money was exchanged, and Fagan left, pockets full, without looking back. A new sign sat above the stage:_

_Mr. Y's Human Prodigies_


	4. Trapeze Artists

**A.N.: **Slight time-jump here. Nothing plot-relevant happens for a bit over a year, except for this moment, a few months after the last chapter.

XXX

Mr. Y didn't sleep in the cage anymore, so it was a surprise when he came to the three freaks' door one night. Squelch and Gangle eyed him suspiciously. Their quality of living had improved slightly since the masked man had taken over the show, with amenities such as larger meals, but there was still a veil of distrust between them. Fleck turned towards the wall when she saw who was coming, her fingers tapping out an irregular rhythm on the wood.

"Come," said Mr. Y, as he unlocked the cage and opened it wide.

"What?" said Gangle.

"Come," the masked man said again, turning and walking away. Squelch glanced at Gangle, who shrugged and placed a hand on Fleck's arm, steering her towards the door. The freaks followed Mr. Y out of the cage and, strangely for them, away from the stage. Soon, they were out on the street!

"Where are we going?" Squelch demanded in a hushed voice. It was intimidating, being out in the open. He glanced around nervously. No one was around, but there were lights in the buildings.

"You shall see," replied Mr. Y, turning and walking down the street.

The freaks followed, their eyes taking in their surroundings uncertainly, Gangle keeping a protective arm around Fleck's shoulders. No one said another word for a very long time. Eventually, they heard faint music playing from somewhere, which grew louder as they neared its source: a huge tent. Mr. Y headed for the entrance.

"Now, see here, Mr. Y," Gangle began. Did he really want them to go inside? They could hear the people within, making the noises that crowds often make, of breathing and brushing against each other. There must have been dozens of people …

"I am not a patient man," came the curt reply. "You will want to go in there. I will not make this offer again."

Curiosity winning over caution, all went inside.

Fleck gasped, and the other two freaks nearly did the same. There were _hundreds _of people inside the tent! They were all sitting around a wide circle, leaving a space open for performers. But where were the performers? the freaks wondered.

Fleck saw them first. "Oh, look!" she cried, and was quickly hushed by several audience members. "Look up there!" she continued in a whisper, pointing up towards the ceiling.

There were people up there, swinging from ropes with bars on the end. Trapeze artists! As they watched, one woman released her grip on her trapeze, and as the crowd cheered she somersaulted in midair and grabbed the hands of another acrobat, who swung backwards again to where she could reach yet another bar. The freaks watched in amazement, Fleck most of all, and eventually they were joining in with the crowd as the acrobats preformed stunts that increasingly unbelievable.

All too soon, it was over. Mr. Y hurried the freaks out of the tent before the bulk of the crowd could catch up to them, and then he was locking them back in their cage and silently walking away.

"They were so beautiful up there, weren't they?" Fleck said.

"Indeed they were," Gangle replied

"That's going to be me someday," said the girl.

Gangle's eyes met Squelch's, and he knew that the same, troubling thought that was dominant in his mind had come to the strongman as well. Had this just been a pleasure trip, and a gift from Mr. Y, or had it been a way to lure Fleck back into the clutches of his impossible dream?

XXX

**A.N.: **I have no idea if there were actually circus tents on Coney Island. For the sake of this story, there was at least one…


	5. Blueprints and Promises

Mr. Y was not one to usually give sentiments, so when he told the freaks "Good night, and sleep well," Gangle was not very surprised that he followed it up with "Not you, Gangle, I wish to speak with you."

The tallman was led into the masked man's office. _Fagan's room,_ Gangle still thought of it as, even though it had been a few years since the show had exchanged hands. Mr. Y took a large roll of paper down off of a bookshelf and rolled it out onto the table in the center of the room.

"Look here," he said.

Gangle leaned over the table and paper. It was a blueprint. On it, a complex of buildings was laid out before the freak's eyes. Each was very detailed and labeled: concert hall, museum, volcano, and many, many others. Gangle looked at the scale in the corner of the page, and his eyes widened. This place was enormous! At the top of the page was a name: Phantasma, City of Wonders.

Oh, he remembered hearing _that _title once before all too well.

"What do you think?" Mr. Y asked.

Was he really asking for his opinion?

"Such a place would require thousands, even millions of dollars to create," Gangle replied.

The masked man shrugged. "In a few more months, my funds will be sufficient to purchase the land, and, soon after that, to begin construction."

Gangle looked up at the man's shrouded face.

"You're going to do it…" he said. "Tell me. Is this just some mad dream that you've concocted behind that pale white shield of yours, or are you such a creature that could bring about such a future, of the kind that you once promised Fleck? A world where people like us—and I say _us, _Mr. Y,because the very fact that you feel the need to hide your face marks you as a freak, no matter how high you hold yourself above us three—a world where we could walk among men without fear of persecution?"

Mr. Y silently rerolled the paper and placed it back on its shelf.

"I have walked among men," he said. "I have crept in the shadows, and observed. They live in a world of beauty, beauty that they do not respect. It is a foul place to be, among men."

"But you crave it," said Gangle. "It is only natural to crave the light when one lives in darkness. Every freak knows that. The three of us, we have accepted the darkness, because the light has proven to be beyond our reach."

"I shall have the light," said Mr. Y firmly. "I shall procure it."

"And if you ever do, we shall stand at your side," said the tallman, coming to sudden decision. "I can assure you of that. Get us to the light, give us the ultimate gift of gifts, and we shall be yours."

He promised it as only a true freak could promise, for the one thing that a freak could ever want was on the line. Could he trust Mr. Y? He still did not know that. But, if the promise were to be fulfilled, then there would always be a form of trust between them.

There was a lot to tell Squelch in the cage that night.


	6. Phantasma: Found and Lost

**A.N.:** Okay, I'm going to put a spoiler alert on this final chapter, because of the last part. This is divided into three parts, with a year's time jump between each part. The last part takes place at the end of the musical. If you don't know the ending to _Love Never Dies_, I would highly recommend that you do not read to the end of this chapter. I repeat: **SPOILERS**. Thank you.

**XXX**

"Is this it, Mother? Is it really?"

"Yes, my dear. Construction will begin in the morning. He will be thankful now for sure!"

Fleck looked up at Gangle and Squelch, her eyes questioning. They shrugged. She stood up and crept over to the bars of the cage, silently listening to the speakers, who remained unseen in the darkness. She could tell that they were women. The first speaker had sounded relatively young, and the other was older, with a heavy accent that the freak could not place.

"Oh, I so hope that he will be pleased with our work! He'll see our efforts, and I won't have to bend to the wishes of those slimy old men ever again!"

"Of course, Meg, now hush. We are nearly there."

To Fleck's annoyance, there was nothing more to hear. The two women knocked on the door of Mr. Y's office, and were allowed inside. After several minutes, they left again, oddly subdued.

"Construction…?" said Gangle. "You don't think…?"

Fleck nodded. "It's happening!" she whispered. "Finally, after all these years…!"

She paused, and her face turned serious.

"But… Squelch, Gangle… I won't go with him if you don't want me to."

"What?" Squelch gasped.

"I won't go with him if you don't want me to," Fleck repeated. "Mr. Y has laid out a dream in front of us, one that I would like to take… But you've never trusted him. I've always known that. And you two, you're what's most important. I mean, you took care of me when I was little. I owe you everything, even more than I owe him for handing me a dream."

_She's grown up, _thought the two other freaks.

"Don't worry about it, Fleck," said Squelch.

"We have decided to be a part of whatever world Mr. Y manages to bring," said Gangle. "If Phantasma does turn out to be the dream that we would like it to be, then that will be all the better."

Fleck's face lit up, and she ran forward and wrapped her arms as far around them as they would go.

_**Just over a year later…**_

Although her part of the show had ended hours ago, Fleck still had yet to change out of her performance leotard. She sat high above the ground, even higher than she was when she swung on the trapeze, on the roof of the concert hall. It had the best view of the island, and the city of Phantasma.

Below her, lights shone from buildings, and people walked through the streets. Music was playing from somewhere. It was a new song, a waltz. Fleck swayed to the music's rhythm as she watched the people below. To think that, just that morning, she had stood on the ground alongside them, with Gangle and Squelch, greeting the excited visitors to Phantasma! They had been staring at her, but they had been staring at everything. They had accepted her as a part of the world around them, and they had not chased her away.

The freak's mind wandered back through the years, back to when she was the lost little girl listening to stories told by a man wearing a mask. It had been just a dream then, but a dream that had kept her going. And now, the dream was also a reality.

And it was _her _reality.

"Fleck?"

Gangle came out onto the roof.

"Squelch and I were looking for you," he said. "Have you been up here all evening?"

Fleck nodded. "Isn't it wonderful, Gangle?" she asked. "Look here. We are actually in this world. We're flying high, and the world loves us. Isn't it wonderful?"

Gangle smiled at the young woman standing before him, so much happier and at ease than he had known her to be in the past.

"It is," he said. "Very wonderful."

_**Another year passes…**_

Fleck stood in the shadow of the concert hall. The noise of the crowds of visitors to the last day of Phantasma's second season was loud, but it did not reach her ears. She was thinking too much for that. She was thinking of the Master, Christine, and Madame Giry, who had been gone for nearly an hour now. Gangle and Squelch had gone scouting for information, and so Fleck waited and worried. She was worried for the boy most of all. The little boy, the Master's child. Would Meg hurt him? Fleck had watched the distressed singer haul him away against his will…

"Fleck! Fleck!"

Squelch and Gangle were running up to her.

"Christine is dead," Gangle said.

"Dead!" Fleck cried. "What of the Master? What of the boy?"

"We don't know," said Squelch. "We saw the body, and the Giries, and there was a doctor there, too… But Mr. Y and the boy were not there."

Cold dread was seeping through Fleck's veins.

"He's gone…" she whispered. "And Phantasma will leave with him!"

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, they heard the screams. The three freaks tried to find the source of the commotion and the reason behind the now-stampeding crowd, but they could not.

Suddenly, the concert hall burst into flames. A wordless cry of fear and despair escaped Fleck's throat as fire and embers rained down from the sky.

"Run!" Gangle shouted, but Fleck was frozen where she stood. Squelch grabbed her around the waist and he and Gangle fled the flames as fires erupted everywhere, in the streets, in the museum, and even on the docks. The crowd fled for the ships, but the freaks headed in the other direction, towards the deserted beach.

They stopped running, and Squelch set Fleck down on the ground. They all stood and watched the flames, the fire that was destroying the dream.

"What do we do now?" Squelch softly asked Gangle.

"What do you mean, 'What do we do now?'" Fleck snapped. She took a few steps back towards the flames and then turned to face the others.

"What is there for us to do now?" she cried, her voice increasing in pitch and despair with every sentence. "Where else could we exist but here? There is nowhere for us, nowhere! 'What do we do now?' What _can _we do now? Life was here! This was home! This was the dream! This was the place that we could truly belong in! Here we dared to walk among men! Where else could we do that? We are the freaks! We are the bizarre! Where else could we exist but here? Where else could we exist but here? Where else…?"

Fleck's body shuddered violently, and then she burst into tears, falling to her knees in the sand. Gangle stepped forward and knelt beside her, wrapping his arms around her. She sobbed into his shoulder. Squelch then got down on the ground and held them both in his large, muscular arms, so that the three of them were close and together while their world fell apart around them.

Once again, there were just the three freaks, with only each other to hold onto in a cold, unfriendly world.


End file.
